


this is what comes from being petekey and tøp trash (or, summer of like fic based on blurryface)

by bandtrashliv (orphan_account)



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: (lmao more like album fic hahaha i shouldn't be allowed to make jokes), Implied Suicide Attempt, M/M, Songfic, Summer of Like, might be triggering for like 4 sentences
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-05-28 18:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6341068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bandtrashliv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete Wentz attempted suicide a few months before warped '05.<br/>Mikey Way has a protective brother.<br/>Gerard Way probably needs to calm down.<br/>Patrick Stump might be considered Pete's babysitter.<br/>(abandoned work)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. heavydirtysoul

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to blurryface after reading a shit ton of summer of like fics and this is what happened I'm sorry

I woke up in a room, surrounded by a bright, white light. At first, I am blinded. A lightheaded feeling washes over me for a moment. After a few quick blinks, my eyes adjust. I'm laying down on a bed, facing towards a door. Everything is suspiciously white. White walls, white tiled floor, white cupboards line the wall to my right. It smells unsettlingly clean, like bleach and counter wipes. _wait, I have no idea how I got here,_ I realize and begin frantically scanning the room, avoiding leaving my bed, and turn my attention to a corkboard to my left. I see a few pamphlets pinned to the board advertising things such as hotels and restaurants. Missing Person posters with stranger's faces have been added to the board as well. In the bottom corner, I find what looks to be a map of a building. I see areas labeled as 'cafeteria' or 'operating room 112.' In a corner I can see the words 'Parkington Hospital.' Crap. Hospital. What did I do and why cant I remember?

It takes a bit of searching in my head but it comes back to me... grabbing the pill bottle, driving to an empty, dark parking-lot. I remember being so damn out of it... shit, okay, I'm not dead. I can't remember anything else. 

My train of thought is interrupted by a doctor, bursting into the room. His balding head has a few patches of short, grey hair. He has a bouncy gait as he walks towards my bed.

"Well, you're awake!" He practically shouts at me. "I am Dr. Wentworth."

"I'm Pet-" I try to introduce myself, but am interrupted when he starts loudly laughing. What the fuck?

"No need for introductions, I read your file." He explains. "I assume you understand your situation?"

"I-I guess."

"I'll go tell your mom and friends that your awake, they've been wanting to see you." And then he fucking trots out the door like a horse or some shit.

Shit. Mom, Patrick, Andy and Joe are here? I assume they're what he means by friends, I don't have many other friends besides them. They'll want answers. What am I supposed to tell them? _Hi mom and best friends, I want to fucking leave this earth_? This is going to be awkward, I can feel it.


	2. Stressed Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise things will actually start happening next chapter.

A few minutes after the doctor left, a frantic, out-of-breath Patrick bursts into the room. Quickly following his arrival, Joe, Andy and my mom enter. They seem cautious, slowly walking towards my bed. Then they kinda just... stare at me. For like, 10 minutes. Okay, it was probably less than that, but it felt like it was a lot longer.

Thankfully, Joe pipes up.

"Are we just going to stare at Pete or-" 

He is interrupted by Patrick almost tackling me with a hug.

"Okay, listen to me, if you're ever feeling down, even in the slightest fucking way, you talk to me." He tells me, though his words are muffled, seeing how he's still hugging me and his face is buried in my chest. "Do you understand me?" Patrick asks, whilst pulling away, his face now about a foot in front of mine.

Holy fucking shit, I’m trying so hard not to cry.

“I-I get it, Patrick.” I stutter.

“Good.” Patrick replies, now properly standing. “You know that I’m still going to keep an eye on you for the next few months, right?”

“Right.”

"Listen, Pete," Andy chimes in, "We just don't want you to feel like you're alone. It sounds super cliché, but it's true."

"It's very much true in a literal sense, too. The only place you're ever going to be alone in again is the bathroom." My mom says, looking at me with a stern, yet loving glare.

I chuckle nervously. 

"You guys are so brilliant." I sigh.

"Hey, we should be the ones telling you that." Joe insists.

"Yeah, right. I give you guys so much shit, if you hate me, just say because nobody blames you."

"Pete, I swear to god..." Andy mutters, holding his face in his hands. "That's why you did it?"

"Uh, you could add it to the list." I answer.

"Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the iii," My mom grabs my shoulder, "Nobody in this room hates you."

"So shut the fuck up." Joe adds.

"Pete, we just spent hours in the waiting room, hoping you would wake up. Would people who hate you do that?" Patrick tells me.

God, I feel so fucking selfish right now. Number 36 on the list of reasons why I hate myself.

"Wait, how long was I out?"

"Almost 11 hours. For a few minutes, they pronounced you dead. Pete, _you literally fucking died_. Do you have any idea how much that put on us? We felt _terrible._ " Patrick informs me.

"I died? Like, uh... for a few minutes, I was successful?"

"No, Pete. That's not what success feels like." I now notice that Patrick is crying. Fuck.

"Goddammit, how many times do we have to tell you? NOBODY WANTS YOU DEAD. And even if they do, they're just an ass and you should ignore them." Joe states.

"I- y-you guys jus-" I choke, tears start threatening to escape.

"Just shut up, Pete. We all love you, but shut up. This is a shitty situation, and all we can really do is try and make you feel better. But we all love you. You've been nothing but kind to all of us since we met." Andy says.

"Pete, you're a good person, and the second you come to realize and accept that as a fact is going to be great for all of us." Patrick adds.

Our moment is interrupted by Doctor Annoying-uh, I mean, Wentworth. 

“I believe that it’s time Mrs. Wentz and I go over some details, there is a chance that Peter’s friends would benefit from joining this discussion, hm?”

They all exchange glances and Dr. Wentworth leads them out the door.

-

About 30 minutes later, Patrick, Andy, and Joe arrive back. Patrick seems to look annoyed yet relieved, I can’t see Joe’s expression because he’s looking down, and Andy looks semi-anxious.

“…so?” I ask.

“So, I had to fight a bit for it, but it looks like we can still go to Warped.” Patrick answers. Our band had been scheduled for Warped Tour ‘05. “Your mom was absolutely against it until I told her I’d keep an eye on you, so sorry, I guess.”

“No, it makes sense. It’s fine.”

“Pete, if you ever do this again, I will melt your face off.” Says Andy. 

“Andy, you couldn’t hurt a bug.” I chuckle.

“ _Don’t test me_.” He replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was coughing so much while writing this ugh @spring h8 u


	3. Ride

Fast forward a few months to June, and we're in a bus headed to the Warped Tour kick-off party. It's one of our first tours in a bus, seeing how we're headlining Warped, so I'm super pumped. I decide to take advantage of the microwave and make about 30 boxes of Hot Pockets. Patrick keeps trying to tell me that I'm being wasteful, but I just ignore him. The heart wants what it wants, and in this case it's an abundance of Hot Pockets. Joe is sitting at the small table by the door, using his laptop, probably looking at porn. But hey, at least he's not talking about it. Andy is somewhere unknown, hopefully fulfilling his dreams. Patrick's being a hermit in his bunk. 

When we arrive at the bar where they're holding the party, Joe is the one to tell me because I hadn't noticed. I was too engrossed in my Hot Pockets. 

After throwing on a hoodie over my jeans, we walked into the bar and were instantly engulfed in the stench of sweat and bathroom sex. Guys who are twice my size grinding on girls who don't leave much to the imagination. There's a DJ blasting out Mr. Brightside and drunks mumbling along. I wander into the slightly uninhabited corner, hoping to stray from the intoxicated mob. My plan does not pan-out as I'd hoped when I knocked into a tall, thin figure. He has on an Anthrax tee and black jeans. His hair is a honey-brown shade, black and white glasses frame his eyes. 

"O-oh, uh, sorry." He stutters. "Wait, aren't you Pete Wentz?"

It might be a good idea to mention that our band released an album last month, and surprisingly, it's doing really well. Pretty much the main reason we're headlining.

"Yeah, uh-" Before I can finish my sentence, a girl bounces up to him. She's quite obviously very drunk. Her blonde hair is styled in a bob and she seems to be a bit of the... stereotypical band slut. 

"Omg! Are you Mikey Way from My Chem?" Oh, yeah. He's Mikey. I've never met any of the My Chemical Romance guys, but their album is fuckin' dOPE. "I love the album, by the way." **same.**

He nods. I can tell Mikey's kind of uncomfortable. His eyes seem to be pleading at me, begging for me to interrupt. 

I quickly step in front of the girl, now standing slightly too close to him.

"Hey, wanna grab a drink?" I internally cringe when I decide to grip Mikey's arm, trying to sell the 'ooh, yeah, we've been besties, like, 5evaaa!!!!' lie. 

"Yeah," He hurriedly replies, rushing away with me, our faces blending in with the crowd, "Thank you." He has a relieved tone. 

"No, n-it was fine, anyone else would've done the same." I smile lightly.

Our conversation continues on through the night, ranging from topics of bands to movies, people to politics. We both have a few drinks to many, and the topics become weirder and weirder as time goes on.

"N-No, Mikeyway, a hippie could _totally_ win 'gainst an anteater." I slur. 

"I don't think the hippie would even get in fight," He argues, "aren't hippies, like, against fighting?"

"That is a compellin' point, but what if the anteater was eating all the other hippies?" 

Before Mikey can reply, Patrick comes over to us.

"Uh, Pete? We should get going, we've been here for nearly four hours." Patrick informs me.

"Really? M-mikey, gimme your number."

"'Kay, it's XXX-XXX-XXXX." Mikey tells me.

"Cool, I'll text you sometime." I mutter, as Patrick begins impatiently begins tugging me away.

When we get to the bus, I grab a pen and write Mikey's number on the palm of my hand. I'd been repeating it over and over in my head one the way so that I wouldn't forget it. When I sit down in my bunk, I realize there's something about Mikey that I can't exactly put my finger on. He's just so kind and awkward and polite. If we don't end up hanging out this summer, I'm gonna be super pissed.

What sucks is that whatever happens, it's going to end so soon. It's all falling from here on out. We have limited time, so I'm taking my time on this ride, living in the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okokok so the timeline is totally fucked up bc I read somewhere that pete & mikey met as early as 2003?? but like fuckit whatever let me live


	4. Fairly Local

When I woke up, the only thought in my head is to text Mikey. So, of course. in typical Pete-fashion, I spend almost 20 minutes over-thinking, deciding what to send to him and ignoring the pounding headache I have from last night. 

**oh god I'm so hungover-** I finally send. Real creative, Pete. 

**pete that you?-** Mikey replies, I remember that he doesn't have my number, so I just show up as unknown. 

**yup, it's the nerb.**

**nerb? nerb? ehat te fuc**

**don't judge me and my life choices. IT'S NOT A PHASE, MOM. THIS IS WHO I REALLY AM.**

**ohmy god**

**do you wanna go somewhere 2day?**

**I'm always a slut for coffee.**

**yaaassss where's your bus**

**by the bathrooms**

**okay I’ll be there in 5 maybe**

**see ya**

I climb out of my bunk, put on a polo shirt, and tell Patrick where I’m going before heading out. 

When I arrive at the My Chemical Romance bus, I feel strangely nervous. The kind of nervous you get when you’re picking up your date for prom. It’s completely unexplainable, seeing as this is a platonic event, though I may think Mikey is super attractive… _no, I am not thinking about this right now._ I knock on the door and am met with a dude who is either having an interesting hair day or just has an epic fro.

“Hey, I’m guessing you’re Pete?”

“Mhmm.”

“Cool, Mikey said you’d be coming by.” He moves over, giving me a passage to get inside, “I’m Ray, nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand for me to shake, and I do so with a smile on my face. Wow, this sure feels like talking to your prom date’s dad. _No, Pete, platonic._

I walk into their lounge and it smells like coffee and cigarettes, but in an enjoyable way…? I don’t know, maybe I’m just too far up Mikey Way’s ass to care. _DAMMIT, PETE. P-L-A-T-O-N-I-C._

I can see two guys on a couch, one of them I recognize as Gerard, the other has black hair that curls around his left eye, the sides a light blonde color. As I’m about to introduce myself, Mikey walks through the curtain separating the lounge from the bunks.

“Hey, Pete!” He says excitedly, while somehow not smiling. He sounds so cute when he gets exci- ohmygod, okay, I’m done trying to deny it. I’m so gay for Mikey Way.

“Okay, so, where’re we going? There’s a Starbucks near here if yo-“ 

“Starbucks?” Gerard pipes up, “Mikey, you better let me tag along… I, uh, should be there to-um, c-chaperone! Yeah, sex with men is very dangerou-“

“DID YOU JUST SAY YOU WANT TO WATCH YOUR BROTHER HAVE SEX WITH ANOTHER DUDE?!” The other guy on the couch shouts, practically shitting himself with laughter. 

“N-no, Frank! I just want Starbucks, shut the fuck up!” Gerard defends himself. 

As all this was happening, Mikey just stood there with a horrified expression plastered on his face. He then grabs my sleeve and hurriedly drags me out the door.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry for them.

“No, they’re fine.”

“So, where did you say the Starbucks is?”

“About 2 miles, you okay with walking?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” He says as we begin walking away from the buses. However after about a minute, we hear Gerard shout;

“Don’t sleep with my brother!”

“-Or murder him!” Frank adds.

-

When we arrive at the café, Mikey orders for both of us and we take our seats by a window in a corner.

“Okay, so, I barely know anything about you.” Mikey starts, “Full name?”

“Er, Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the motherfucking third, yours?”

He laughs. God, his smile is so pretty.

“Wow, lengthy, mine’s just Micheal James Way. Hobbies?”

-

After a discussion that ended in tears of laughter, we decide to head back to our buses.

“So, Mikey, what time do you play tomorrow?” I ask.

“Around four, I think.”

“Cool, we go up at six-thirty. I’ll be sure to watch you.”

At this point, we separate to go our own ways, to our own buses.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAYS, PATRICK AND MELANIE!  
> okay I'm so sorry this is late, I have no explanation other than I was too fucking lazy to type it up. I always write down the shit in a journal and then type it and upload it, and this chapter has been written down for a really long time, so I'm sorry my lazy ass was too fuckign layz


End file.
